


Bind

by AirgiodSLV



Series: Bind [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-14
Updated: 2003-11-14
Packaged: 2019-07-20 09:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: It never occurred to Billy tobeanything in bed other than what he was naturally. To be something tangible, something that came with a set of rules and expectations.





	Bind

**Author's Note:**

> For Cyndi, on the occasion of her birthday.
> 
> Content/Warnings: Mild exploration of s/D.

It never occurred to Billy to _be_ anything in bed other than what he was naturally. To be something tangible, something that came with a set of rules and expectations.

Not until he saw Dom, with his leather cuffs, and brightly-coloured ties snug around his neck, even when he wore T-shirts. Not until he saw Elijah, who took command as easily as he breathed, who could maneuver a dozen hungry actors to the same restaurant after final cut in less than an hour. Not until he saw Karl lounging on set with his girlfriend-of-the-week, one hand placed possessively over her hip, the sparkle of metal in her choker necklace surprisingly bright. And Karl, in leather and denim, looking completely innocuous and yet so totally not.

Then he wondered what it meant that he felt a flash of interest when he saw Karl like that, that his pulse beat a little bit faster when Karl’s gaze swept over him, up and down, evaluating and measuring. Why his skin went cold and then hot under those confident eyes.

He started to think about it constantly, to analyze everything he did and thought and felt in terms of passive or aggressive, his interactions with others and their responses to him. It consumed him, made him question why, if this was truly a part of his psychological makeup, he had never noticed until now.

It was curiosity more than anything else that spurred him to make the first move, to take a step towards that tantalizing world of obedience and command. He dithered over what to use for more than an hour, testing paperweights and clothespins and cables until the memory of Dom carried him to the closet, near the back with his dress slacks and suit jackets.

He pulled one of the ties off the rack at random, heard the soft hiss as it slithered over his palm. He pulled the blinds and checked the lock on his bedroom door twice, even though he lived alone, because several of the guys had keys to his apartment, and they sometimes had odd concepts of private space.

He couldn’t figure out what to do with the tie at first, so he just wrapped it over the knuckles of one hand, lay on his back on the crisply made bed, and tentatively opened his jeans to tease himself to hardness.

It was pleasant, but by no means earth-shattering, so after a few moments of massaging and rubbing he stopped, rearranged himself on the bed and tied his ankles together. Which was different, and slightly more restricting, but he was still restless, so he stopped again and looped the tie around the headboard, wrapping it as best he could around his free wrist. Then he settled back onto the bed with a little sigh and resumed stroking, pulling and tugging at his body until it sluggishly obeyed.

He didn’t feel anything particularly noteworthy until his nose itched, and without thought he tried to move his free hand to scratch it; the swish of material again the wood and the abrupt tug of resistance from the tie still clenched in his hand brought an immediate reaction from his body, which tightened and pulsed so unexpectedly that he gasped, and did it again, more slowly this time. A deliberate testing of his bonds, tugging against the headboard.

He moaned, just a little, and sped up until the squeak of his mattress blended with the soft protests of the bed frame as he rocked and twisted. The sudden splatter of his release was almost shocking, and he lay in stunned silence for several minutes, breathing shakily and feeling the last tremors quiver in his legs and spine.

He cleaned up quietly and put the tie back in the closet, and then ignored the whole idea for nearly a week, doing nothing about the tugs he sometimes felt when Karl gave him one of those looks that summed him up and released him, sometimes so fast that it left him reeling.

Eventually he took another step; rummaged in his dresser until he found a ribbed turtleneck one size too small, the off-white nearly invisible against his skin. It made him feel almost naked, cream knit blending with the flesh of his skin, and the high collar was tight around his neck, a constant press against his Adam’s apple and throat.

He was highly conscious of it, and of the way Karl noticed it when he met a bunch of them at the restaurant for dinner, his eyes following the curves of Billy’s arm muscles, clearly defined by the clinging fabric. It made him slightly dizzy, the heady euphoria of having caught Karl’s attention mixed with the forced shallowness of his breathing against the tight turtleneck.

He made it nearly half-an-hour with the weight of Karl’s gaze on him; the careful respect that Elijah showed; the quick looks from Dom, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. Half-an-hour before the combined physical pressure of the collar and psychological pressure from the others drove him to a claustrophobic panic attack, and he excused himself from the table as the urge to vomit rose up and chocked him.

He didn’t throw up in the bathroom, just dry-heaved into the sink, fingers scrabbling at the collar to stretch it, to pull it away from his throat and grant him air. Brown spots appeared against his eyes, forcing the light into pinpricks, and he was barely aware of large, capable hands on his back, soothing him and stroking along his rib cage.

He leaned into them as the panic ebbed, sweat making his clothing stick to him and cling sour in his nostrils. The back of his head found a chest, and he turned blindly into it, the rough material of the sweater scratching his cheek.

“I can’t do this,” he said quietly, admitting it to both of them, and the hands changed direction in response, went from stroking his ribs to rubbing in small circles over his biceps.

“I know,” Dom answered, and his hands squeezed briefly in support. They shared the silence for a stretch of seconds, and Billy listened to his own calmed breathing and the drip of a faucet until Dom’s hands gently eased away. “Come on, let’s get back out there before they come after us.”

Elijah’s eyes pinned him as soon as they were within sight of the table, concerned and enquiring, but they flicked away to Dom before Billy could summon up some kind of response. Whatever message was communicated between them seemed to reassure Elijah, who relaxed back into his chair and offered Billy a quick, sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” Billy said quietly, reclaiming his seat and arranging the cloth napkin neatly into his lap.

A hand reached across the table to catch his wrist, not controlling but gently cradling, and he looked up at Karl in surprise. “It’s okay,” Karl assured him, smooth voice and warm hand, and Billy didn’t know what to say.

Except, quietly: “Thank you.”


End file.
